


the undone and the divine

by definitelyfinch



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Chastity Device, Cockwarming, Exhibitionism, Gender-neutral Language for Genitalia, Inflatable Dildo, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Samot's Exhibitionism Kink, Samothes Being Possessive, Spoilers for Spring in Hieron 38: See Where You're Standing, Stretching, Trans Samot, d/s dynamics, gaping, public vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelyfinch/pseuds/definitelyfinch
Summary: “This will be a lovely necklace, don’t you think?” The key swings slightly in the air, glimmering. “I should wear it around my neck all day, let it hang in the open front of my robes, so all of the island knows you’re mine.” Samot stares up at him, lips slightly parted, as Samothes clasps the chain and the key around his neck.Samothes locks Samot in a chastity belt for their day out in Aubade, and keeps him busy once they get home.
Relationships: Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	the undone and the divine

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Linda for the conversation that sparked this fic, for keeping me motivated, and for reassuring me that it was, in fact, quite hot.

“It’s enchanted, you say?”

Samothes nods. “Feel for yourself.”

Samot reaches for the chastity belt and dildos, feeling the threads of magic tracing around their metal forms. Shape-changing, motion, a kind of life, all woven into the smithery. The larger dildo, for his front, is a very recognizable shape. Samothes’ cock, in silver metal.  _ I want to know that I’m always filling you up,  _ he’d said _ , nobody else,  _ and Samot had nodded and kissed his silly, possessive mouth. Now, the sight is already turning him on again, lying all fucked out on their shared bed, Samothes’ cum still wet and shiny at his entrance. 

Samothes is watching him, waiting, and Samot nods once, twice, then speaks. “It’s beautiful.” 

His husband smiles and reaches for a pillow to lift Samot’s hips, then stretches out Samot’s pale legs, kissing the inside of his thighs up to his ankles, before threading his feet through the light pink leather straps and shimmying the chastity belt up his thighs. The head of the front dildo brushes against his folds and Samot gasps, expecting the metal to be cold, but it’s flesh-warm against his sensitive skin, the enchantments already at work. He can feel the broad head pressing against his entrance, already swollen and tender from the pounding not five minutes prior, then the light  _ pop  _ as his hole swallows the head. Each vein is more pronounced in the metal, hard and unyielding as his tired walls bear down on the dildo. Then the tip of the butt plug, tapered to a dull point, parts his back hole, and the dual sensation of widening is enough to make him moan. He knows exactly how long the dildo is - it’s a replica of Samothes’ cock, after all - but each inch feels firmer, more foreboding, as Samothes settles the pink leather flat against his crotch, slotting the dildos into place. A brief clink of metal and the straps pull tight around his waist, silver buckles taut against the leather. Samothes reaches to the side table and comes back with two tiny locks. Samot holds his breath as Samothes locks one side, then the other, two faint clicks. He holds the golden key up to the sunlight.

“This will be a lovely necklace, don’t you think?” The key swings slightly in the air, glimmering. “I should wear it around my neck all day, let it hang in the open front of my robes, so all of the island knows you’re mine.” Samot stares up at him, lips slightly parted, as Samothes clasps the chain and the key around his neck.

“And for you, my love...” Samothes reaches back again, pulls out something golden and slim - Samot’s collar necklace, a delicate gold band with a stylized ring on the front. It wouldn’t stand up to too much rough play, but that’s not the point. It’s the way it feels resting on his collarbones, the way the ring clinks ever so slightly as he walks, the way he catches his reflection in mirrors and windows and knows that everyone around them can see it too, how Samothes possesses him, how much he loves Samot. Samothes clasps it around his throat with a kiss, then draws back to survey his work: Samot, reclining on the bed, his hair a golden storm upon the pillows, nude except for the collar and belt, his thighs still sticky with cum and sweat, hips thrusting against nothing. He looks ravished, ravishing. But now is not the time for more. 

Samothes stretches back and stands from the bed, extending a hand for Samot. Samot stands gingerly, adjusting to the way the belt holds his legs slightly open, the bulkiness of the dildo and the plug inside him. He follows his husband to their closet, anticipating the ways Samothes will prod him into obedience. It’s always contested terrain, their relationship, and as much as Samot wants to yield power to his lover, he does not do so without good reason. 

Samothes returns with a cream-colored flowy blouse and a long emerald skirt, modest but for the slit up to the side of his mid-thigh. He’s chosen a small heel, green with embroidered flowers, and Samot can’t resist.

“Those shoes? With that skirt?”

Samothes raises an eyebrow and stares at him disapprovingly. Samot holds his gaze, feels the push and pull, before stepping forward so Samothes can dress him. No undergarments, he notices, save the belt and stockings. His chest will be out, then, the shape of his peaked nipples visible through the thin blouse. Samothes doesn’t waste a chance to stroke along Samot’s arms and legs, to trace the scars running over his sides and near his heart, where the Spring greenery still thrives. He’s learned to live with it, and come to appreciate the new sensations the symbiotic vines provide, what with the pain now mostly manageable. Samothes sits Samot down to put the shoes and stockings on, kissing each ankle before stretching the thin socks up his legs. When he’s dressed, all buttoned and laced, Samothes reaches for a pair of delicate drop earrings and threads them carefully through each ear. He feels like a precious object when he’s handled like this, his body lovingly manipulated into whatever shape his husband desires. 

Samothes denies Samot the pleasure of a show and dresses quickly in an open-necked shirt and loose pants. Casual, for a day out on the island. They move to the washroom next, where Samothes shaves his face and lets Samot style his own hair. They’d learned early on that Samothes may be good with his hands, but any hair other than his own seems to elude him, and thousands of years in Aubade had still not remedied him of that deficit. When Samot is all polished, lips colored and hair shiny and loose, Samothes hands him a wide-brimmed sun hat and his walking cane, then offers an arm. Together they leave their rooms and stroll down to the market streets. 

The sun is high in the sky already, but the day is pleasant with a gentle breeze. He’s glad that Samothes chose a low heel - his balance is a fickle thing these day, and each step is already made more difficult by the weight of the dildos inside him, the way the belt holds his legs parted, how he can feel the ridges and veins and bumps of the dildos move against his walls with every step. Samothes’ cum is still inside, he thinks, and he imagines the wet noises it makes as he walks. By the time they reach the café, Samot can feel the flush rising on his face and neck. He can barely hear the conversation Samothes has with the hostess, what with the way Samothes’ hand is tracing circles into his lower back - feeling the outline of the belt through his thin clothing. They’re led to a table with a view of the bay, and Samothes pulls out the chair and helps Samot ease into it before settling himself down on the opposite chair. Samot has his back to the room, and he knows it’s intentional. He can’t see what’s going on behind him, can only watch the ocean and Samothes.

Samothes, who has a hand on his thigh, inching steadily towards the inside of his legs. Well, two can play at this game. He shifts in his chair, managing to avoid biting his lip as he feels the solid head of the dildo shift too, and stretches his foot out under the table, aiming for Samothes’ crotch. The surprised growl he gets in response confirms his aim was true, and he smirks, daintily picking up his glass and taking a sip of water. He grinds his heel into Samothes’ cock and Samothes growls, quiet and low, glaring at his bratty husband. Samot just raises his eyebrow and looks out to the ocean, savoring the view, when the dildo inside him springs into action with a deep vibration. Samot can’t keep his balance and drops his foot to the ground, spreading his legs and tilting his hips forward. He bites his lip, desperate not to moan in the middle of the restaurant, and looks up to see Samothes staring at him with lidded eyes, his gaze burning into Samot’s. His lips look so soft, so kissable, and Samot has to fight back the urge to grind his hips into the chair. Not that it would do much, anyway. How frustratingly smooth the leather of the belt is, how little friction he can get against his throbbing cockhead. 

Samothes turns to look at something behind him and smiles, his public face instantly on. Samot figures the waiter has arrived, as if on cue. The vibrations must be loud enough for the waiter to hear, he’s sitting so taut in his chair, his face must be giving him away- 

“Good afternoon, Lord Samothes. What can I get for you?”

“Ah, I’ll have the fish fillet and a glass of your finest white, please.” 

“And for you, sir?”

Samot knows better than to respond. He pauses, acutely aware of his cheeks heating up, when Samothes speaks for him. “He’ll have the same, thank you.” 

A nod, and it’s just the two of them again, Samothes staring intently at his husband. The vibrations are deep, pressing against his most sensitive spots, and Samot can feel his hips making small circles against the hard chair. 

“So tell me about your newest paintings, dear.” Samot swallows and tries to focus on anything but the way the metal inside him is pulsing, the constant sensation. 

“The weather has been beautiful for plein air work as of late. I suppose I should thank you for that, hmm?” 

Samothes laughs. “Well, I’m not entirely in control, but I accept your thanks.”

The food arrives quickly, fresh and delicious, but Samot hasn’t yet taken a bite when he feels the vibrations fade, then pulse back. He shoots a curious glance at Samothes, who’s pointedly slicing his fish. Samot cuts himself a bite of his own lunch and raises the fork to his lips when the vibrations spring back to life. He gasps and grips the table. Samothes makes a disapproving noise and hisses under his breath, “Do you not know better than to be so obvious? Let go of the table.” 

Samot lets out a shaky breath and relaxes his grip. The buzzing is so strong, so overpowering, he can feel the muscles of his hole clenching and unclenching. Samothes leans back and takes another bite, and the vibrations retreat slightly. It’s an easy magic to control, especially at such close range, and Samothes gives no warning before he sends the vibrations fluctuating again. This time, Samot can’t hold in a small moan, grinding his hips against the chair. He distracts himself with considering the taste of the wine - a good vintage, one of the ones he helped grow, with a dry profile - and manages a few bite of his lunch while Samothes recounts something about a new festival he’s planning. He tries to listen, he really does, but he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

“Love, I-” he looks pleadingly at Samothes. The corner of Samothes’ lip quirks up and the vibration intensifies.

“It’s such a lovely cafe, and a beautiful view, don’t you think?” He’s smiling. Samot is so close, can feel his cock throbbing against the belt, wants little more than to touch it, but can only give slight rocks of his hips. He tilts his pelvis forward and  _ there, oh, right there _ . The orgasm washes over him slow and steady, and he can feel his legs jerking despite his best attempts to sit still. He clenches down on the vibrating dildo and plug, feeling so full, so dirty, so public, as the orgasm waxes and wanes. He’s panting. He must look a mess.

The vibrations lower, and Samot raises his head to look at Samothes as they slow to a stop. Samothes reaches across the table to brush a lock of hair out of his face, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long. 

“You look lovely today. I knew the outfit I chose would suit you.” His gaze is possessive, warm, and Samot can feel his body already eager for more, eager to give more to Samothes. He must be blushing, can feel the heat radiating from his body, the intensity of his husband’s stare.

They finish their meal soon after, and Samothes helps him to his feet. He takes his cane in his free hand and walks with Samothes out into the street, already swelling with the afternoon shopping crowd. They set off towards the market avenue a few blocks away. Samothes can’t seem to resist touching him, stroking small circles into his back, fingers trailing towards his bottom. The raw intensity of the orgasm has faded a bit, but the embarrassment lingers. Samot is acutely aware of everyone around him, more so than usual, and of the weight of the dildos between his legs. He glances down and sees that his nipples are visible through his blouse, peaked from the constant arousal. He can’t help but wonder if people notice them, or his changed gait, or the flush on his exposed chest. The thought alone stirs his arousal, and he bites his lip as he forces it back down. 

Samothes leads him back and forth between the stalls, constantly remembering new items to look at, vendors he needs to chat with, purchases to make. Samot follows, feeling the belt with each step, half thankful that the vibrations have stilled and half hopeful for their quick return. They stop by the baker, then the milliner, and finally the florist. Samot occupies himself with tracing the curls and hues of the daylilies, memorizing them for later painting, while Samothes speaks to the shopkeep. He’s studying how the petals diffuse the afternoon sunlight when he feels the dildo inside him start to move - no, to swell. He gasps and clutches Samothes’ arm, who turns from the florist to him. 

“Are you alright, dear?”

Samot nods shakily, hyperaware of the presence of another. “I’m fine, thank you. The heat must be getting to me.” 

“In that case, we should keep moving. Until tomorrow, then.” 

As they continue winding their way through the crowded market, Samot can feel the dildos intermittently swelling and vibrating, enough to tease. His holes are throbbing at the stretch, and he can feel his gait shifting to accommodate the growing bulk. It’s certainly not the largest dildo he’s taken before - though he cannot say how large Samothes is able adjust these - but it feels much larger than Samothes. Perhaps it is the sway of his hips, he wonders. He can focus on little else but the growing size of the dildos inside him as they reach the end of the market, all his energy devoted to keeping quiet and walking normally, to not drawing attention to himself, to keeping safe their dirty secret. 

After the last stall, Samothes pauses and turns to him, a concerned expression on his face. “How are you feeling?” 

Samot’s teeth toy with his lower lip. “Full.” 

“Hm.” The dildo inflates ever so slightly and Samot lets out a surprised “Oh!” Samothes flashes him a toothy grin, clearly pleased at his own ingenuity. He leans down and gives Samot a quick kiss before offering his arm. Samot gladly accepts it, leaning on Samothes and his cane for balance as they head towards the beach. The water gleams blue in the afternoon sun, and Samot pauses to readjust his grip before walking with Samothes along the shore. They speak of mundane things, their daily life, Samot’s answers getting shorter and breathier until he can do nothing but whine at the sensation. He’s so full, he must be about to burst, and still Samothes is inflating the dildo inside him. They round a corner of the island, away from the town, and Samot can feel his legs shaking with the effort of staying upright. But there remain a few people around, and Samot’s dignity will not stand to see him on his knees before any except a lover. 

They’re in a quiet cove when Samothes reactivates the vibrations and Samot cannot stop his knees from buckling at the pleasure. Samothes crouches with him as he sinks down into the sand, panting and circling his hips, desperate for Samothes’ touch. He places a hand under Samot’s chin and tilts his face up. Samothes seems haloed in the bright light of Aubade’s sky, Samot thinks, and he wants nothing more than to kiss his soft lips, to run his fingers through his beard. His gorgeous husband, so kind to treat him like this.

“Beyond words already, my dear?” 

“No, I -  _ hngh _ .” Come to think of it, he doesn’t feel the dildo’s stretch so much any more, but he also didn’t feel them shrink. He must be adjusting to their size. His muscles feel worn out, loose around the dildos.

Samothes chuckles and thumbs his lower lip. “Well, let’s get you home.” He traces a sigil in the sand, weaving more of the magic that sustains this world, then tilts Samot’s face toward the sun. A shift, and Samot looks down to see the sandstone of their balcony under his knees. It’s cooler here, quieter. He can hear Samothes’ breath. Samothes’ fingers hook on the ring of his collar necklace and compel him to his feet. As he stands the belt shifts inside him, engorged and massive and  _ too full _ , and Samot collapses against Samothes’ broad chest. Samothes hooks an arm around his waist and walks him into their bedroom, over to the bed, the sheets still slightly rumpled from their morning activities. Each step is becoming more and more torturous, the denial unbearable. Samothes throws him onto the bed and Samot nearly cries in relief as Samothes undoes his shoes first, then the fasteners on his skirt and blouse. He leaves the jewelry on. He likes to look at his handiwork in motion, Samot knows.

Samothes sits back on his knees and undoes his own belt, taking his sweet time. He pulls his shirt off slowly, letting the afternoon sun catch his chest and stomach in a warm glow, and palms himself through the thin fabric of his undergarments. Samot can do nothing but watch and wait as Samothes’ cock swells, watches the precum soak his underwear. He’s panting softly when Samothes finally removes his cock from its confines. Samot wants to reach out and touch the rounded tip, dripping precum, wants to feel the familiar curve and heft, but he keeps his hands by his sides where he knows Samothes wants them to be. Satisfied for the time being, Samothes traces his hands up Samot’s splayed legs, pressing down on the leather front of the belt before finally reaching around to the sides.

He’s watching himself in the large mirror opposite their bed as Samothes unlocks the buckles at his waist, then pulls down the straps and begins to draw the dildos out, torturously slow, and Samot watches and feels how his flesh grips on, feels each molded vein and ripple slide past his entrance until the heads of the dildos pop out of his wet holes, gapping and struggling to close in their absence. He can see the cum, Samothes’ cum, dripping out from where it’s been all afternoon, thick trails down his over-open folds, running onto the bed. Samothes sets the belt down on a towel and traces his fingers back over Samot’s holes, tutting at the cum draining out. He cups his fingers and scoops it up, then stretches open Samot’s front hole with two fingers and uses his other hand to shove the cum back inside. Samot groans at the sight, much too turned on by the possessive growl Samothes lets out as he does so.

“You’re a sight, love,” Samothes murmurs, stroking himself with one hand as he pull Samot’s right leg up over his shoulder. “Now, what do you want?” 

Samot stares into his husband’s eyes, the fire within them, and murmurs back, “You’re so close and yet you want to deny yourself, dear?” 

Samothes chuckles low and slow and circles his hips forward, tracing the tip of his dick along Samot’s slick folds and his red cockhead in teasing light thrusts. Samot groans, forcing his hips to stay still as he twists his hands in the sheets. Samothes ruts once, twice, three times, soaking in the sensation of his cock against Samot’s wet cockhead with his head leaned back. Then he lines himself up and slides in to the hilt, and Samot yells.

“Oh, you’re so loose,” Samothes rumbles, “so open for me, I can barely feel anything on my cock.”

Samot whimpers and tries to clench down, but his exhausted muscles just ripple around Samothes’ cock. It’s normally such a perfect fit, such exquisite satisfaction, but he’s already fucked open, worn out, his insides stretched too wide to feel his husband’s gorgeous cock. Samot wants to cry at the continued denial of his pleasure, at how Samothes planned this. He feels something at his rear entrance, and his cheeks part easily as the buttplug settles in, his ass gripping the narrow neck. Samothes gives another thrust and smiles. 

“There we go, that’s better. Tight enough for me to feel something, hm?” and then snaps his hips forward. Samot cries out at the sensation, feels the head of Samothes’ cock pounding against his deepest parts, the slam of his hips against Samot’s own made infinitely more sacred by the day’s denial. Samothes grabs his ankle and lifts it higher and the angle shifts just so, Samothes leaning into each thrust, quick and strong and deep and  _ finally _ . Samot is never a quiet lover, never has been, but now he’s yelling in earnest, begging Samothes to go deeper, to touch his dick, anything,  _ please.  _ He reaches his hands up to touch Samothes’ face, to try and draw him in for a kiss, but Samothes grabs his wrists and pins them over his head, leaning forward to capture Samot’s lips between his teeth, the kiss rough and domineering. He’s gasping for air when Samothes finally pulls away to kiss down his chin and neck, sucking and biting at the pale, blossoming skin, drawing his teeth over honeysuckle collarbones and violet nipples. 

Samot throws his head back into the sheets, the tension slow to build in his core despite Samothes’ devoted attention. He’s so open, so slick, that each of Samothes’ thrusts is more teasing than satisfying. He tries to bear down but can’t, and so he leans back and rocks his hips, desperate for the contact with his cockhead that Samothes isn’t providing. He twists his wrists in Samothes’ grip, flexing his fingers at the sensations. Soon he feels Samothes’ thrusts get more erratic, feels his hips stutter, his hand move from Samot’s ankle to his hip. Samothes throws his head back as he comes inside Samot, shuddering through his orgasm with shallow thrusts. Samot whimpers and circles his hips, left aroused and hanging as Samothes fills him up. 

When Samothes pulls out, his cock softening, Samot can feel the warm cum beginning to drip out. His cockhead is throbbing, he’s desperate to be touched, but then Samothes reaches next to him - to where the chastity belt sits. Is he - he wouldn’t. 

Samothes holds up the belt, the dildo and plug slightly smaller than when the belt was taken off but still massive, and turns toward Samot with a focused look on his face. 

“Alright, love. Hips up.” Samot whimpers and turns away, bucking his hips and twisting his slender legs. He’s so needy, so desperate, he wants to be touched  _ now. _ He wants to earn it.

Samothes does not force his legs into position. Instead, he touches a warm palm to Samot’s cheek and turns his face back to him. “You can say no, sweetheart.” 

Samot shakes his head, whimpering. “I - please, I want it, I want you to force it on me, I want to please you, I want-” Samothes silences him with a kiss, nipping his lower lip. 

“Alright.” He’s looking at Samot with such love, such heat. “Be good for me a while longer, then,” and he grabs Samot’s ankles, forcing them over his shoulders. Samot gasps at the roughness, how well Samothes knows what he likes, and he bucks against Samothes’ grip as his husband shoves his legs apart and lines up the belt, manhandling the dildos back into his worn holes. Samot can feel Samothes’ cum all wet inside him as the belt settles against his folds, can feel his walls clenching weakly around the dildos’ bulk as Samothes does the buckles and replaces the locks. The leather provides no friction for his throbbing cockhead, no matter how he twists and bucks. 

Samothes pulls him into an upright position and traces his hands up Samot’s body, giving his gold collar a possessive tug, before shifting over to the edge of the bed. He stands and grabs a silk robe, tying it loosely around his body, then approaches Samot, still kneeling on the rumpled sheets. He gestures for Samot to stand. 

“Come on, love.” He grips Samot’s hand and pulls him up, allowing him a moment to steady himself, and starts off toward the sitting room, Samot stumbling next to him. He can think of little else but the belt, how raw he feels, how each nerve feels poised for attention it will not receive. Samot hears the faint  _ click  _ of the hallway door lock as Samothes leads him over to the couch. He takes a minute to get things set up - a book, a pillow - then sits down with a comfortable exhale and helps Samot kneel on the pillow at his feet. Once he’s settled, Samothes opens the front of his robes, tangles a hand in Samot’s hair, and maneuvers his mouth towards his cock. Samot takes him eagerly in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip, and Samothes hisses, still sensitive. He lets Samot swallow his cock, but doesn’t raise him back up. Instead, he reaches for his book, Samot’s warm mouth still enveloping his cock. He runs a hand through Samot’s golden hair and smiles. 

“Such a good cockwarmer I have,” Samothes murmurs, and he opens his book. Samot can do little else but focus on breathing through his nose, feeling the weight of Samothes’ cock on his tongue, the bittersweet tang of cum and sweat and sex. Samothes turns a page above him. Samot shifts his hips and feels the girth of the dildo inside him, his persistent arousal. But there is nothing he can do now other than please his husband, so he focuses on Samothes’ presence, sun-warm, full of love. 

He drifts off on the heavenly waves, lulled by the sound of pages turning and the sensation of Samothes’ hand stroking his hair. He feels calmer than he has in weeks, blissed out, intimately connected to his physical body, his worldly cares narrowed down to the scent of his husband on his tongue.

Samot’s not sure how much time has passed when he feels a hand on the back of his head gently tugging him up. He opens his eyes - when did he close them? - and his blurry vision is full of Samothes’ cock, spit-wet and shiny. Samothes pushes him back onto his heels and strokes his cheek. “How are you feeling?” he asks, earnest. Samot tries to collect his thoughts. He feels like he’s floating on a cloud, and he hums as he finds the words.

“Hmmm... I feel floaty.” He smiles wide and gentle, staring up into his husband’s soft eyes. 

Samothes nods. “Let’s get you back to bed, then.” He stands, then leans down to wrap his arms around Samot and gently lift him up, one arm under his knees and the other behind his shoulders. The jostling shifts the dildos inside him, and he can feel his dormant arousal blooming back to life, concentrated and purified by the lull. Samot leans his head against Samothes’ shoulder and purrs as Samothes carries him back into their bedroom and lays him out on the bed. 

The mattress sinks as Samothes sits and bows his head to unloop the key chain from his neck. He unlocks the belt slowly, each click of the key in the golden keyholes a hymn, his touch devoted. The dildos deflate as Samothes slides the belt off his lover’s slender hips, and Samot feels rather than hears the obscene noise they make as they exit his tender holes. Samothes dips his fingers inside and Samot leans into the touch. How gently his husband teases him open, how exquisite his knuckles feel rocking over Samot’s puffy entrance.

Samot watches through half-closed eyelids as Samothes strokes himself, his hardening cock still dripping from Samot’s ministrations. He reaches for a pillow to slide under Samot’s hips, then tenderly spreads his legs, and Samot feels the tip of another plug against his rear entrance as Samothes leans down to capture Samot’s lips in a soft kiss. 

When he rocks into Samot it’s slow and deep, the rough seduction of the afternoon simmered down to possessive devotion. His hands run through Samot’s hair, fanning out gold on the silk pillow, before he reaches one hand down to touch Samot’s swollen cockhead, and Samot wails at the intensity of even a touch so light. The day’s denial seems to have heightened all sensation. The brush of Samothes’ broad thumb is all he’s ever wanted. To be the sole focus of Samothes, to know Samothes’ whole being is in service to him, is like staring at the sun. His mouth, his fingers, his cock - it’s so much, all for Samot, all for his love, and Samot feels the tears forming behind his eyes at the overstimulation. He reaches his arms around Samothes’ back and pulls him closer, desperate for contact, as he reaches his peak. 

The orgasm rips through him as a cresting wave, his arms and legs shaking around Samothes’ body, and Samothes only rubs him faster, kisses him deeper. It’s so much, too much, the first orgasm barely past when he feels another beginning to rise from behind his stomach, where Samothes’ cock is filling him up so perfectly. He moans into Samothes’ mouth as the second orgasm hits, even stronger than the first, his hips jerking away from the overpowering sensation of Samothes’ touch. Samothes brings him down slowly, fucking him tenderly through the aftershocks, easing off his throbbing cockhead and stroking the soft crest of his hip, revenent. 

Samot relaxes back into the pillows, catching his breath, and feels Samothes slip out. He watches as Samothes sits back on his ankles and strokes himself, flicking his wrist and teasing his dripping slit until he cums with a groan over Samot’s gaping folds. He bucks his hips through the sensation, his lover’s name falling from his lips. 

When his hips still, Samothes leans forward and stares through hooded eyes down at Samot, and Samot feels his breath catch once again as he takes in the sweat on Samothes’ chest, how his curls stick to his forehead in the heat of the bedroom, how his blissful smile makes Samot’s heart beat out against his delicate ribs. His lips part but he says nothing, just reaches up for Samothes and Samothes obliges, leaning down into Samot’s waiting arms. 

Samothes settles with his chest pressed against Samot’s back, pressing kisses into the notches of his spine. Samot feels so thoroughly used, so adored, as Samothes’ cum dries between his legs. At some point Samothes pulls out a warm washcloth from the places gods store their necessities and starts to clean Samot’s tender skin, gently lifting his leg to wipe his dripping holes clean. Then Samot feels the warmth recede as Samothes pulls away, and he whines at the absence. The bed shifts under him as Samothes rolls to the edge and stands.

“I’ll be right back, love.” A moment later - or a second, or an hour, Samot isn't sure - he returns with Samot’s hairbrush. Samot watches him set it down on the armoire before he feels hands under him, shifting his tensionless body momentarily out of the way as Samothes turns down the bedspread and lays him out under the covers. Samot stretches out a hand and Samothes gladly follows, pulling the covers back over them as he returns to his position at Samot’s back. 

The silky sheets are cool. Samothes begins to brush the tangles out of his hair. “Hmm, thank you...” Samot murmurs into the pillow.

“Hm?”

“I said thank you.” Samothes chuckles and kisses the nape of his neck. 

“Any time, love,” and he resumes his brushing. 

Samot feels himself sinking into the sheets, fucked out and content. He savors the moment, lets the calm wash over him, and whispers, “We should do it again sometime.” 

Samothes laughs, his chest rumbling against Samot’s back. “You’re already thinking of next time? You truly are insatiable.”

“Mmm, love you.” 

He can hear the smile in Samothes’ voice when he answers, “My beautiful husband. I love you, too.”

They’ll wake for dinner in a few hours. But for now, they’ll lay together and listen to the waves against the sand. Samot closes his eyes and drifts off, loose and relaxed in his husband’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> "The sweetest submission  
> Drinking it in  
> The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns"  
> – Florence and the Machine, "Bedroom Hymns"
> 
> Find me on Twitter @definitelyfinch


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